Welcome to Azer--Earth?
by seafoamcyr
Summary: I end up in my main's body on Azeroth, and she ends up in my body on Earth. How did we get this way? How do we get back to normal? Read and review please :)
1. What the F--k?

Ugh, I don't want to get up. Not that I have to; I don't have anything particularly important that I have to do. But unfortunately I have a good dose of common sense, and that little piece of sensibility says that perhaps I should try to get up before seven in the evening every day; crazy, I know. I don't like being sensible either. I roll over, intending to begin my daily getting-out-of-bed debate, which basically consists of arguing with myself over how getting out of bed would benefit me more than staying here all day. I sigh, and open my eyes.

… Why is my ceiling made out of brown woven material rather than that weird popcorn plaster stuff? I know I often say it would take a jet engine to wake me up, and while that would work, I'm fairly certain that if the roof were replaced overnight, I would be awake enough to realize it. I turn my head and see a wall made up of wooden planks. Again, that should be plaster. Okay, now I'm really confused. There's a small chance that if the roof were replaced overnight, I would sleep through it—an extremely tiny chance—but there's no way in hell the house got rebuilt around me and I didn't know.

I put my hands under me and slowly sit up. No sloshy sound from my waterbed, so that's changed too. I glance down at the new bed in question; the "mattress" (if you could call it that) is like an oversized lumpy pillow, and the blankets are a dark blue and red mash-up with the same lumpy feel. What in the hell…?

While looking at my new bed, I notice something else that completely takes my mind off the bed: my hands. They're sort of a pinkish purple-y hue I can't name, and my nails seem to be painted a bright violet shade. Personally, I think claws would be a better term for what's attached to the ends of my purple hands—like damn gurl, ever heard of clippers? I lift up my hands, and peer closer. My hands are a bit larger than a small child's hands are and completely covered in calluses, definitely a change from my baby hands. Oh, and they're also purple.

I stretch and push the covers off of me and onto the wooden plank floor, and inspect myself. My whole body is the pinkish purple-y color, and most of my skin feels satin-y (hands, forearms, and feet are covered in calluses). I also haven't checked _everywhere_, but as far as I can tell, hairless as well. Point in this new body's favor, believe you me. I glance down and quickly sink back onto the bed at the sudden feeling of vertigo. I think I might be a great deal taller than I was.

I wait a moment for the dizziness to lessen, and look around the room. This is when I come to the conclusion I must have different eyes as well; I can see things clearly, even better than I would with contacts, actually. You know how a thermal camera shows temperature in color? My eyesight is sort of like that plus being 20/20. I can almost see the orangey waves of heat emanating from the sunlight pouring into the doorway. I automatically lift my hand up to shield my eyes, but after a moment, I realize there's no stinging or dark spots in my vision. Hmmm… I'm not affected by the sun?

Let me clarify, I'm not freaking out—not loudly, anyway. I'm much like a zombie in the morning, so all I can feel after the wave of sleepiness is confusion. I'm not awake enough to shriek—or so I thought.

I look around the room, and see a wooden sink/basin sort of thing in the corner opposite me. I stand up again—slower this time—and stumble over. I mentally cheer when I see the glimmer of water already there. The relief felt from not having to figure out how water works ebbs away, only to be replaced with shock and horror when I grasp the sides of the basin and look my reflection in the water.

An inhumanly beautiful face stares back at me. My jaw drops, and I see small, near-perfect pearly white normal teeth. Well, normal aside from long, sharp canines. Holy hell, I have fangs. I rub my face, and examine my reflection again. This has got to be one hell of a lucid dream if this isn't real. My lips are a dark violet shade, almost pouty. My nose is sort of pert and upturned. It'd be cute if I wasn't freaking out about everything else. My eyes are large, almond shaped, silver, and glowing. My ears are huge, and triangle shaped. I reach up to touch them, and jump a little. They appear to be incredibly sensitive to touch as well as sounds; I'm pretty sure I heard a fly fart—it was beautiful, by the way.

I have silvery tattoos reminiscent of claw marks stretching from just below my impressive eyebrows to the corners of my mouth. My hair is the same silvery-white shade, and I run a hand through it. No tangles, just very soft.

While looking at my reflection is certainly interesting, and I like how I look now, my mind finally catches up, and I shriek loudly. What has happened? _Why am I like this?_

**_WHY AM I A NIGHT ELF?!_**

* * *

><p>I bolt upright, an echoing scream ringing in my ears. What in Elune's name was that? I rub my eyes, yawn, and stretch. I'm not sure what that scream was from, but one thing is for certain: I'm not going be able to go back to sleep now. I wonder where Loki went; I don't hear him hunting, so usually he'd be asleep on the floor next to me. I look down, and stop. What is this fuzzy stuff covering the ground? I lean down, meaning to poke whatever this is, but stop when I hear water sloshing around. What in the…? I sit back up, and I hear the water again. Where is that coming from? I look around, and my confusion increases tenfold. Why is everything blurry? Why can't I see?<p>

I look down at whatever I'm sitting on. I lean down, intending to peer at the thick, soft blue thing covering me, but I hear the water again. Where in the seven Hells is that coming from? I sit back up, and listen; nothing. Why do I only hear it when I move? I move to a kneeling position, and I hear the moving water. Is it in my bed? I glance to my sides, sort of a subconscious checking for enemies, but all I see is the blurry back of some sort of furniture, and a white wall. Hmmm. I'll figure those out after I find some way to have clearer vision. I crawl to the end of the bed, and kneel down on the weird fuzzy floor.

I pull the soft grey cloth out of the way—I'm curious what it is, since it's softer than celestial cloth—and lift the squishy blue rectangle. I think that's a mattress, but I've never seen another one like it in nearly 130 years on Azeroth. I see two long wide stretchy containers under the mattress thingy, and I poke one. That's where the water sound was coming from! I let the mattress drop, and think. Why would anyone want to sleep on giant sleeves full of water? That's silly.

I stand up slowly and look around—I'm definitely not in Halfhill, that's for sure. I slowly walk around to the front of the weird piece of furniture in front of the bed. Oh, good, it's a bench thing. Better than a bench, actually. It has a back on it, and instead of being all wood, it's got this long cushion thing covering it. I flop down on it, and peer around. Hopefully there's some way to clear my vision on this or nearby. I turn, and I see an odd rainbow object. I pluck whatever it is off the back of the bench thing and peer closer. Oh, hey, I've seen these things! Well, sort of. Engineers have goggles or other eyepieces, and I've seen some humans with wire things similar to these. Hm. I unfold the back pieces of the goggles, and slide them onto my face.

By the Goddess, it's nice to see clearly again. Though I can't see as much as I normally can still—I'll take what I can get until I figure all this out. I sit back and look around what I have now ascertained is a room of some sort. From the looks of it, it's bigger than my home in Halfhill. How much gold am I paying for this? I shake my head, and silently curse Loki. If you wanted to be more comfortable, you could just go to the Shrine instead of drugging me and buying the biggest room wherever this is had available.

I expect to hear some snarky retort, but I slowly realize I haven't heard anything except myself. Where in the world has Loki gotten off to now?

There's a wooden stand with some shiny devices on them—an engineer's work, no doubt. Perhaps I shouldn't touch whatever they are; they could explode, especially if the engineer responsible was a gnome. I shy away from the stand, and stand instead in front of the wooden stack of drawers next to it. I'll look in the drawers later, I think. There's a mirror suspended over the drawers, and I curse Loki again. Not only can I not find him, I know for a fact only the highest nobility can afford mirrors, and never have I seen one as large as this.

I move closer, and look at my reflection. Is that… no, that _cannot_ be me. I'm a _Kaldorei_, not a human! I peer closer. A human youngling it seems, even. I tilt my head, and the reflection copies my move. It seems that the human youngling in the mirror is indeed me. Did I annoy a Dalaran mage one too many times? Did Loki? I can't remember being in Dalaran anytime recently, or speaking to Jaina in the ruins of Garrosh's throne room. Hmmm.

My first thought is that the human youngling in the mirror is exceedingly pale. I must be some noble, to avoid the sunlight as I seem to have done. It. Not I—I don't want to get used to referring to this reflection as myself. A very lazy youngling, I conclude, as I glance down the body. No muscle mass to speak of. Perhaps I'm a noble's only heir, as even a female noble would have done some sort of work, though not near a commoner's. The human has dark curls, and dark eyes, and she's on the smaller side. I would guess an angry mage is to blame, and Loki probably played a part in this. I sit back down on the bench and decide to wait for the latter's return to explain what he did this time. He's in _so much trouble_, I tell you.


	2. Where Am I?

I'm a night elf. Okay. This has got to be a ridiculous lucid dream. I hold out my arm and pinch the inside of my upper arm hard, hoping to wake up back home in my waterbed.

"Ow!"…That definitely didn't work. I wonder if I'll bruise easier as a night elf, since it appears that I truly **am **a night elf. No lucid dreaming here, folks.

At least the pinch served to wake me up; obviously, that was my purpose, but I was hoping for a different result. I also neglected to consider the long, sharp fingernails I now possess. Bruising is no longer a question, because I'll be surprised if I don't. I'm also bleeding. Do you think wherever I am has Band-aids?

I sigh, and glance down at my reflection in the basin. I don't understand what occurred to make me turn into a random night elf, and I don't know where in the world I'm at, but it looks like I'm not about to change back anytime soon—soon being today, not Blizzard Soon™—at least, I'm really hoping not that long.

If you think I'm being too calm, believe me I am anything but calm. But while rocking myself and chanting hysterically has been justifiable since I first gazed at my reflection, I'm trying to avoid that. How, you may ask? I tend to have a great deal of self control, which is rather nice to have when encountering people I'd like to strangle, but it's especially useful now so I don't have a meltdown.

I yawn, and stretch. It's so bright outside. It must be early, which would explain why I'm so tired. I usually roll out of bed late afternoon or early evening. On the plus side, maybe I can go outside—shh I know, don't freak out—and see where I've ended up! I let go of the wooden basin, and carefully make my way towards the sunlit doorway.

I grasp the sides of the doorway, and lean out to get a better look; dirt. That doesn't exactly pinpoint my location. I think I see some grass, but I get distracted by a ramp made up of narrow wooden slats in front of me. Oh, that makes it easier. I attempt to step down onto the first slat, but they're farther down that I thought they were. Right, I'm a lot taller than I was. Oh, shit. I lose my footing due to the vertigo, and flail my arms around attempting to remain vertical.

I land on my face. As you can see, my wild flailing did absolutely nothing to prevent this fall. I try to get my arms underneath me so I can stand back up, but evidently this is just not my day. I begin to slide down, face first, and I try even harder to stop myself, but I hit my head on the side of the stairs and slump my face into the dirt, momentarily blacking out, but not before I hear a loud barking laugh from somewhere.

I come to, face down on the ground. I lift my head up and begin to spit and try to get the dirt out of my mouth, but I am stopped midway by a weight on the back of my head pushing me back down.

"Ew… why'd you do that, man?" I lift my head back up as much as the weight—whatever it is—will allow, and continue my efforts in ridding my taste buds of the soil. Not a good treat, -20/10 would not recommend.

_"If you're gonna come outside, I would suggest going down the stairs feet first. That way tastes less like dirt, let me tell you."_ I hear the gruff, almost genderless voice sound almost like it's inside my mind—what in the hell? _"And anyway, if you're gonna use those steps like a slide, why didn't you invite me first? Don't you want me to have fun?"_

I feel a brief, cold feeling on my forehead, and then the weight on my head is lifted, and I immediately turn my head up to get a look at my… guest. … Okay so I know the pinch didn't work, but there's no way this can be real. It's gotta be a dream. There's a giant white feline lying in front of me, with as much of a feral grin as it can muster on its face, staring at me.

* * *

><p>I slowly awaken once more. That was a weird dream. I imagined I was in some fancy engineer or noble's room with a bed full of water and I was some sort of young human noble. I sigh, rub my eyes, and open them. I immediately see the odd rainbow goggles from my dream. Wait… what? I pluck them off my face, and my surroundings immediately become blurry.<p>

Am I still dreaming? I place the weird goggles back on my nose, and look around. Yep, it's still the room from my dream. Hmm. That's odd. Once a dream ends, it normally doesn't continue. Well, I'll be remedying that. I hold out my arm and pinch as hard as this human youngling body can muster on the upper portion of one of my arms. Ouch! I blink and look around. No change. By the Goddess, what is going on here?

I suppose I'm stuck as whoever this human youngling is. Ugh. I grimace and study their—well, my—hands again. They're small, smooth, and delicate. How am I going to be able to use my bow? I vaguely recall needing to develop the calluses on my hands and arms when I was but a child, and wince. Those aren't anything like what I would call pleasant memories. And my fingernails! If an enemy somehow managed to get near me, I could go for the eyes and do some real damage with my long sharpened ones. These are clipped so close I can barely see any beyond the end of the fingertip. What is wrong with humans?

I sigh. I need to figure out more about this odd room I'm in. I've never seen one like it, but then I've never been interested in the bedchambers of Stormwind nobility, so there is that. I stand up from the cushioned bench and advance toward one of the odd, cream colored smooth walls. The only explanation I can come up with for it is perhaps Dwarf construction with their smooth stone. But this doesn't feel anything like stone, and by Elune, it certainly doesn't look like any building in Dwarven lands I've seen.

While studying the wall, I move slowly along the length of it, looking for some clue as to what it's made out of, and I stop at a white stylized border of some sort around a door. At least I recognize the material, if not the color. The border or frame and the door are both definitely wood. That makes me feel a little better. But what is this little thing in the middle? It's like… tin? It looks sort of like a handle, but more… uniform I guess than what I've seen. I grasp and turn it, and slowly pull the door open.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Oh. It's just another little room. There's odd white shelves attached to the walls, and one of the higher ones has hangers made out of some mysterious material, and there's some clothing on them, but not like I've ever seen a noble wear. I pull a soft blue thing off one of the hangers, and study it carefully.

It looks like one of the linen undershirts issued during the colder seasons. But it's too thick. Perhaps it's some fine wool? It's dyed a beautiful shade of blue, like a clear summer sky. There's a smaller section sewn to the top of the garment—oh, it's a hood! I personally prefer the hood on my cloak, but this is okay too. I turn the garment around and see white lettering on the front.

"Lake Superior: Unsalted and Shark-Free", I read. I tilt my head and think. I don't remember a lake named that. You'd think a lake by the name of Superior would be big enough to gain notice. But then I have been absent from the northern kingdoms for many moons, while I gain the respect of the Pandaren and resolve the threat of Garrosh. So I suppose it may be possible.

While these articles of clothing are certainly intriguing, I'm still not sure where I am. I place the blue garment back onto the hanger carefully, and step outside of the little room, pushing the door closed behind me. I turn and head to another door perpendicular to me. Maybe this door will actually take me somewhere so I can figure out what I can do to get back to normal.

I open the door and step out onto a hard white surface. What is this? Before I can kneel down to study it, I feel a presence in my mind, and I snap my vision back up.

"Loki?" I haven't even heard a whisper of my dear companion since yesterday night, before I was a human youngling.

_"You can hear me?"_ Wait… no this can't be him. Loki sort of sounds gruff and near genderless, whereas this voice is definitely male, but it reminds me of a voice someone would use to make fun of another. You know; kind of stupid sounding.

"Yeah… who are you? What are you?" I look around, and notice a large metal cage to my right. Is that where the presence resides? I slowly step closer, and peer inside. It's a… dog? A black one, I think. What I'm more concerned with is how he can speak to me; I've only ever spoken to other pets through Loki's link, and that's a very specialized kind of magic. How…?

_"I'm Arthur. Do you have any food?"_


	3. Loki & Arthur

**There you go, added Cyr IRL portion. Enjoy. Reviews fill my heart with joy. :)**

* * *

><p>I gape at the cat's feral grin, frozen in astonishment for an instant that seems to last forever prior to the surge of adrenaline making contact with the brain. I push myself up to a sitting position in a surge of speed I didn't think I was capable of, and scramble back, still staring at the intruding feline. I open my mouth, meaning to ask who in the hell this creature is, but it chooses that moment to stand up fluidly, and lope towards me; the only sound that comes from me is an incoherent shriek, loud enough that I almost drown out the genderless voice in my mind, sounding quite baffled.<p>

_"What's wrong with you, cub?"_

I rub my hands over my face and force myself to take several deep breaths. I still don't know who or what this creature is aside from it being feline, and I have no idea what this weird voice in my head is. What is going on?

_"I have no idea, what is going on with you?"_

Oh my god, there it is again. My eyes widen and I run a hand through my hair; I'm not even sure what I'm looking for, but my immediate thought is some super advanced technology involving my head as an experiment. Don't judge me—you don't know how you'd react in this situation.

"Who are you?!" I blurt out in the cat's direction. Like a cat would answer. I mentally laugh a little, until I hear the voice again.

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_ The voice sounds offended.

"What? It's a simple question." I snap at the cat. Wait. Does this voice in my head belong to the cat?

_"Of course it does, you nincompoop_." Nincompoop? Who even uses that as an insult anymore? _"I do." _

"Obviously, I know you do. But who are **you**?" I feel a weight on my knees, and look down, distracted from my conversation with the voice in my head. That sort of sounds like I'm crazy; I'm not—maybe. I think (hope).

The white feline is nudging my legs with its forehead, and I hear a quiet rumbling purr. My heart melts a little, and I straighten my legs out. The cat promptly lies down on the ground, its head in my lap. I smile at it, and then continue my earlier conversation.

"You never answered my question." I'm trying to remain calm. The best way to do that is probably not my method; I'm mentally chanting 'I'm not crazy I'm not crazy' over and over.

_"Why do you keep asking who I am? I know you were out with your dwarf buddies last night, but your hangovers keep you in bed, not eating dirt."_

"Because I don't… erm… remember? Who you are, I mean. I have no idea." I ignore the jab about sliding down the stairs. I just wanna figure this out.

_"You obviously have some idea. Can you scratch behind my ears a little?"_ Wait, what?

My jaw drops and I gape at the cat in my lap. I've been talking to… it?

_"Him. I'm a him. Jeez, do the dwarves have some sort of new brew I don't know about? …Can I try it?"_

"No, no you can't!" I glare at him.

"So there is a new brew?"

"Oh for…ugh. I don't know; maybe. Anyway, I don't remember you, so as far as I know, I'm talking to a stranger." The feline looks up at me. It could be a trick of the light, but did he just roll his eyes at me?

_"I'm Loki. You tamed me three years ago. We have a…"_ He pauses, as if he's searching for words. _"I guess you could say we have a…mutually antagonistic relationship." _He nods his head, almost absently, as if to convey 'yes, that's right'.

"So… both of us give the other crap over anything and everything that is available?"

_"Well… no… I'm mostly the one that gives you crap."_

"So… you're an arsehole?" I hear a feline snort from my lap.

_"I suppose you could say that yes. Since I'm an arsehole, does that mean you won't be scratching my ears?"_

"Ugh, fine. You're such a beggar." I grin down at him.

_"When it comes to my ears, I don't care what I have to do."_

I tentatively lift a hand and lightly scratch behind one of his ears, studying Loki closer now that I'm not freaking out. He's a beautiful snow white color, with large irregular spots; the spots in question are turquoise, and giving off a dim glow. And holy wow, he's gotta be at least ten feet long from nose to tail tip. Additionally, though I was a bit busy hyperventilating at the time, at first glance I'd wager he's a few feet tall when standing. In short, he's huge and _gorgeous_.

_"Thank you, cub."_ Cub? I decide to ask about this later. Right now, I have far more crucial questions, those that may involve me staying sane for instance.

"Um… Loki?"

_"Yes, cub?"_

"I don't know if it was the… dwarven brew or whatever. But I don't know who I am either." He lifts his head and stares at me.

_"You what?"_

"I have no idea what my name is. Or where I am. I don't know why I'm a night elf today when I've been human for the past 18 years."

Loki stares at me, and if I didn't know better, I'd say there's an expression of astonishment on his face.

_"By the loa… I've gotta try that brew."_

"Will you stop talking about a dwarven brew?" I stand up and begin pacing in a circle, Loki's eyes following me as I rant. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I went to bed last night as a human at home and then this morning I woke up as a night elf with a giant cat friend and I have no idea where I am and I'm freaking out because the cat in question's voice is in my mind and I'm not completely certain of my sanity anymore." I finish my ranting and realize my voice has risen to a shrill pitch and I'm verging on hysteria.

Loki's response to my raving is… nothing. He remains where he is, staring at me for a few seconds. I rub my hands down over my face, and try to calm down. This is when he strikes. Or rather, bats—at me, I mean. I hit the ground hard. The first thing I see is Loki's eyes, just above me, boring into mine. This is when I notice that though Loki is huge and gorgeous, he also has long, sharp glowing fangs.

_"Those aren't just for show, cub. Now, this is what we're going to do. Or rather, what you're going to do to get back to normal." _

"I admit the whole being-a-night-elf thing is pretty far outside the norm, but I'm perfectly normal! What are you talking about?!" I am once again verging on hysteria, but this time is a mix of being freaked out in general and also Loki is pinning me down; a huge, dangerous feline probably capable of ripping my throat out in seconds, pinning me down. Saying I'm scared would be the goddamned understatement of the century.

_"I'm talking about whatever in the Seven Hells you did last night to drive you nuts! You're going to go to a priest and get dispelled or something and get your arse back to normal. Even if I have to drag you there!" _

"You'll have to drag me there. I'm** not** insane—argh!" Loki cuts off the end of my sentence with a sudden leap forward, over my head. Wha…?

My confusion is evident, but only lasts a few seconds before I feel a pull on the back of the thin undershirt I'm wearing. Is he—oh my god, he's actually **dragging** me! I begin struggling, but realize it's futile after a few seconds of steadily being dragged backward by the treacherous Loki. **Ugh**. I give up and fold my arms across my chest. I feel so juvenile, but this is just ridiculous.

* * *

><p><em>"I'm Arthur. Do you have any food?" <em>

"Uh… hi, Arthur; are you hungry?"

_"Yes! Can you give me some food?" _

"I… Obviously I don't have any." Don't dogs have a really great sense of smell? He should be able to smell if I have food on me, right? I've never tamed one of the Worgen mastiffs, nor have I wanted to, so I don't know.

_"Go get some from the big cold box!" _

Big…cold…box? Oh, Elune, tell me this isn't one of those homes where everything is some engineer's gadget, please. I turn away from the back of the cage and glance around the room I'm in. Hmm, there's a wide rectangular object taller than this human youngling's body is; perhaps this is the box he was speaking of? I see two handles, so I grasp the bottom handle, opening the larger panel. Cold air rushes out onto my face. This must be it.

Oh, wow, do humans truly keep all their food in one of these things? I dig through the variety of foods, seeing labels such as Capri-Sun and Imperial. What is a Capri and how does it relate to the Sun? If these are nobles, why do they have some odd bronze-ish box labeled Imperial, which should be specifically for the King and his family?

"What kind of food do you want?" There's so much food here. I would assume meat, but I don't know what to look for. It's all in weird boxes or sacks made out of some clear material I can't name.

_"Ham! I like ham!"_ Oh-kay… I'll look for ham. _"It's at the bottom!" _

I look at the bottom section of the chilly box gadget, and don't see anything. Oh, hold on, the rainbow goggles are slipping off. I push them back against the bridge of the human's nose, and I see clear drawers under the open compartment. I open the left one, and after a quick study of the contents, I pluck out a clear sack thing full of what looks like ham, but sliced very thin.

"Is this it?" I ask, but as the words escape my lips, I realize Arthur is still in his cage; which I don't like, by the way. Your hunting companion should be by your side always, whether awake or not.

_"Open my bed and let me see!"_ The cage is his bed? What kind of hunter do you have? I close my eyes and rub the top of my nose. Not my business.

Holding the package of ham slices, I shut the big cold box and stride over to the front of the cage-bed. Glancing inside, I see the black shape on a blue striped cushion, which softens me toward his hunter slightly, but a caged hunting companion is still wrong, no matter how comfortable the cage may be. I kneel in front of it, and as I try to figure out the lock, I attempt to make conversation.

"So… do you sleep in this thing often?"

_"Mom puts me in here every night!"_ He calls his hunter Mom? My companions name me as various forms of friend or partner—or in Loki's case, I'm his cub—but never have I been called Mom. I shrug, and yank the cage door open.

The dog that stands and strolls out is not what I expect. I've never seen another like him. Arthur is no Gilneas mastiff, that's for certain. He's fairly small for a hunter's companion, but too big to be one of those darling little creatures pet collectors have—I'm not saying I'm a collector, but I have several myself. Anyhow, aside from size, he's definitely different. No big jowls, there's a protruding bone at the top of his head and his nose isn't flat, it's pointier. And his ears are huge and floppy; that alone would make me melt, but his face does it for me. He looks so sad! I sink the rest of the way to the floor and begin feeding him slices of ham, one at a time, until his sad face takes on a sort of proud-of-himself expression, and he nearly prances around. It's like a victory walk. _(**AN**: Black Labrador/Bloodhound mix; he does a little trot when he has something he shouldn't)_

I glance at the peculiar pack the ham was in; there's half the amount of ham there was. I hope that was enough. Poor thing is in a cage all night. I'm a fairly heavy sleeper, but even I know that a hunter's companion hunts during the night for his food; because of this being the norm, no beast of mine has ever been unable to do so.

I stand and place the half-filled package of ham back inside the chilly box where I found it. I'm not sure where I am still, and I don't know how this engineer's box-thing works, but best to leave things as they are. Too much is going on today that I don't understand, and while I would understand an explosion, I don't want to add that to today's repertoire of events.

I hear a noise, and quickly shove the box door closed and glance around for the source. I tilt my head. Is that… footsteps? Small and quick, the steps are muffled by something, but the mystery is solved in the next few seconds as a tiny human child steps out of a door not far away and scampers toward me.

"Cyr!" Wait, wait, what?


	4. Anduin & Sara

**A note on Varian: My reasoning is that our characters in-game are heroes and have worked directly with the King at times (like the Horde/Alliance thing in Krasarang). If "I" don't remember what I've done for him and the Alliance, he at least will remember and acknowledge my deeds. **

**A note on Loki speaking out loud: My reasoning on this is that pets are able to project speech out loud in times of strong emotion, like if their hunter is injured. Loki is just... using this functionality differently.**

**Also, Happy Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year. I know I neglected this story, and I don't even have a good excuse. Pls love me.**

**Hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p>"You can't just drag me through the town? Ugh!" I'm struggling to get away from Loki, who is a horrible traitor and won't believe me when I say I'm <em>not<em> crazy.

_"It's for your own good, cub! You will get fixed or we will both die trying!"_ To be honest with you, Loki seems a bit overzealous. I'm not sure if he's enjoying torturing me or worried; it's quite possibly both, now that I think about it.

I severely underestimated my new pet. He's slowly but steadily dragging me through the Halfhill marketplace, and insisting every time I open my mouth to protest that this is for my own good and I will thank him later. I think not! I am not crazy, I am not hung-over, and I am just not supposed to be who he refuses to believe I'm not is all. I didn't even do anything to deserve being humiliated by an overzealous stubborn jackass that insists he loves me.

It's bad enough now, but trust me, it just gets worse. Loki began speaking out loud to the Pandaren folk who came out of their homes to gawk. I didn't even know he could do that!

**"Pandaren of Halfhill, my cub is ill and verging on insanity. I need to get her to Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind City as quickly as possible. She is protesting and trying to get away from me, but I've fought an Old God; I know insanity when I see it."** Shit, I was hoping he'd be less… I dunno… convincing? Regal? But with his words projecting to the Pandaren and other races gathered near the Halfhill Inn, I realize I'm doomed.

"Oh my dear ancestors, I hope the Prince can help her. The poor thing has helped Halfhill so much…"

A Pandaren stationed next to a stand made out of bamboo approaches Loki with a brown bundle in her paws. "Here, since our hero from beyond the mists is ill, I will let you accompany her on the kite—just this one." She winks, and unfolds the bundle, revealing an oversized triangle piece of fabric suspended on bamboo. There are small tassels hanging from the outside end that are shimmering—is that what magic looks like?

The Pandaren assumes a businesslike, no-nonsense expression, and watches me for a few moments before speaking.

"You are going to get on this kite and be healed by Prince Anduin, or I will send my ancestors after you, and I promise you will wish you never came to us from beyond the mists."

"Yes, ma'am." I scoot onto the kite. I would stand, but Loki either has his paw holding me down, or is dragging me. If it weren't for that… well, I'd still listen. I'm sure even if I was the hero of Pandaria or whatever, I'd still be intimidated enough to do as she says.

I sit on the kite, uneasy about it actually taking off. It's not exactly an enclosed airplane; it seems that safety measures are nonexistent in this universe. Loki nonchalantly lies down next to me, even going so far as to close his eyes—but don't think for a moment he wasn't serious about his endeavor. He still has a paw lying over my feet, and he's not exactly a housecat; his paws are massive, and heavy. Plus the whole razor sharp claws thing—all this keeps me at his mercy.

"I do hope the human prince can reverse her insanity. May the ancestors be with you." The Pandaren woman bows low to Loki (I assume) and tugs the tassels on the end of the kite; a split second later, we are airborne, and I begin hyperventilating. I like looking out of the window of an airplane, and yes I know those can crash, but falling off this kite seems a million times more likely with the ground so visibly far below us. I place my arms around Loki and squeeze, silently praying to whatever deity that may be listening.

I don't know how long the flight on the kite was, but finally I stop feeling the air stream across my ears—the elf ears are so sensitive, it actually tickles a little—and open my eyes. I only get one or two moments to look around what I assume is Paw'don Village before Loki grasps the back of my undershirt and drags me toward a shiny vertical disk floating a few feet away with two older humans standing next to it with expressions of intense concentration on both faces. Before I can breathe a sigh of relief at seeing fellow humans, my vision blurs and I feel a jerking sensation from behind my navel, before landing face first hard on a grassy surface.

"Ow!" I attempt to push myself up off the grass, but Loki beats me to it and sighs before grasping my nightshirt and begins to drag me once more.

"Aren't you getting tired of this?" I know I am.

_"Yes, yes I am, but you need to get fixed, and you're not about to go willingly."_ Loki snaps at me.

"What if I said I'd go wherever you intend on taking me if you let me stand up?"

_"Do you think I'm an idiot?"_ He sounds indignant, like I just insulted him. _"You are not going anywhere."_

"I don't think you're an idiot, I just think this is unnecessary. I'm not crazy."

_"You've got to be."_ I'm not sure if he said that to me or more so to himself, like an assurance. _"We are going to Prince Anduin and you are going to get healed. Now stop complaining; we're almost there." _

I sigh and fold my arms across my chest. I start to say something passive aggressive, but then I hear the splash of water, and jump.

"What was that?"

_"We're going for a swim, my dear cub!"_ He sounds gleeful; I knew it, he's enjoying this.

I open my mouth to retort, but I quickly realize that was a horrible move when I'm dragged underwater. After a few moments of haziness and desperation for air, Loki drags me back onto land on the other side of the water, and slaps his paw on my back a few times, forcing me to cough up all the seawater—by the way, seawater is a 0/10, would not recommend.

_"Maybe if you'd listen to me and stop whining, I wouldn't have had to do that."_

"I wasn't that bad! You nearly killed me!"

_"Don't be such a baby; it was only a few seconds."_

"Still!" Loki stares at me for a moment before turning and beginning to slow drag me toward the water again. "No no no, no need for that!"

Fine, jeez, I'll be quiet. I fold my arms across my chest and fall into a sullen silence, the only sounds the background of the bustling city I'm too annoyed to pay attention to and Loki muttering the occasional pithy remark.

_"We're here!"_ These are the last words I hear echo in my mind before Loki switches to speaking out loud—which is still really weird. His voice still sounds androgynous, but less echo-y and more commanding. **"Where is Prince Anduin? I require his attention now!"** This definitely gets the attention of the Stormwind Guard stationed along the hallway I recognize from the game that leads to the King's throne room.

One guard stretches out his arms and blocks the path right before the hallway ends. I crane my neck and turn around to watch. This should be interesting; I do hope Loki isn't stupid enough to kill a guard, especially one high up enough in the ranks to be in the palace.

**"I need to see Anduin Wrynn, the White Pawn, NOW!"**

"Who are you to march in and address our prince as such?" The guard doesn't sound very pleased at Loki's lack of titles in his demands.

**"Behind me is one of the heroes who assisted in the downfall of Garrosh Hellscream in Orgrimmar, she is a legendary hero of the Alliance, she is ill, and needs a priest. Now you will let me through. NOW!"**

Before waiting for the guard blocking our entrance to process this information, Loki barrels through and knocks him down, and I am nearly dragged over him before he scrambles out of the way, staring at me with recognition in his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this?" I hear a deep voice and see dark plate boots trimmed with gold before me, and look up. King Varian Wrynn, leader of the Alliance, is standing before me, a barely-masked expression of supreme confusion on his face. Before I can open my mouth and answer the king, Loki slaps a paw over my mouth.

**"My cub is not well and I need to see Anduin Wrynn, now."**

King Wrynn's eyebrows rise after a moment at Loki's term for me, and he looks at me, perhaps for confirmation. I don't know what to do, and to be honest I am quite intimidated at the sight of him, so I shrug helplessly, but otherwise stay passive.

"As a hero of the Alliance and of Pandaria, I will escort you to my son, _Prince_ Anduin Wrynn." King Wrynn places some emphasis on Anduin's title, but Loki doesn't respond, simply falls into step behind the king when he begins striding toward a hallway.

After a few moments of silence, Loki and the king turn into a room, and I hear a sound of surprise before Loki lets go of my nightshirt and charges toward who I assume is the Prince with a roar. I hear a gruff sound of alarm and look up in time to see the King drawing Shaylamayne and charging after my cat, who I think must have a death wish. I stand up, turn, preparing to face the rage of Lo'Gosh and a dead pet, but instead I see Loki on his back purring, a tall blonde young man knelt beside him rubbing his belly, and the King once again staring with an expression of confusion evident on his face.

"Uh…" I take a tentative step toward the cat, the prince, and the wardrobe—I mean King (I know, that was bad), and after a moment, Loki abruptly rolls back over and stands next to me.

**"My hunter is ill. I need you to heal her." **Anduin's eyebrows raise in surprise—at the blunt statement or Loki speaking, I'm not sure—and he cocks his head.

"You're ill?" he asks me. "I will do my best to help you, but I'm not sure I can cure something I do not see."

"I—" I begin to explain before Loki roars and silences everyone.

**"My cub went drinking with her dwarf friends last night and this morning she doesn't know who she is and she didn't know who I was or where she is. She insists she has been human for many years before today. I think this dwarven brew drove her crazy. Please, fix her."** Loki sounds almost upset by the last sentence of his spiel, and the King gawks for a moment before regaining his composure and directing a question at me.

"Is this true? Do you not know who you are? What you've done?"

"I—well, yes I suppose." I nearly whisper this, because the King's face contorts like he's in pain, and the Prince looks concerned. King Wrynn sighs and to my surprise, bows deeply, but stiffly, as though he doesn't do so often—I imagine he doesn't.

"Huntress Cyradis, hero of the Alliance, I hope whatever is ailing you doesn't persist. Know that I will remember your great deeds, even if you don't or won't know." With that, and me gawking at the king in shock, he sheathes Shaylamayne and strides out of the room, his steps echoing. Silence reigns for a full minute before Prince Anduin steps toward me.

"I'm going to cast a general diagnosing spell, to see if perhaps I can find what sort of magic or source is causing your loss of memory, if not cure it."

The Prince steps toward me and places his hand palm down on my forehead.

"I don't believe this will cause you pain, but I apologize if it does."

What I see of his palm begins to glow brightly with warm golden light, and I feel a sensation like the aftereffects of a vibration go through my head before my scalp prickles, tightens, and shivers go down my spine. Prince Anduin steps back and shakes his head at me sadly.

"There is some sort of magic behind your memory loss, but it's not a school of magic I recognize. I recommend seeking out High Priestess Tyrande in Darnassus; as someone with 10,000 more years of priesthood than I, if any priest can help you, it would be her."

**"Do I need to drag you to the docks or are you going to cooperate?" **

"You don't need to drag me anywhere ever again; I got your point." I begin to turn, but Prince Anduin stops me.

"There are mages in the castle; if you don't mind portals, I'm sure one of them would prepare one to Darnassus for you. Being on a boat for weeks with unidentified magic working in your mind isn't advisable."

"That is a good point. I'd rather not be like this longer than I have to." Oh, if only they knew.

* * *

><p>"Cyr!" Wait, wait, what? I only have a split second to feel confused before the tiny human slams into my legs and topples both of us onto the peculiar fuzzy floor.<p>

"Ouch!" The little redhead sits up and rubs the back of her head, her face beginning to screw up as if to start crying; by Elune, this is the last thing I need! I don't know this child, but I know that human parents tend towards being overprotective, and I would rather soothe a child than face an angry mama.

I sit up, and tentatively gather the tiny human into my arms and hug her.

"Are you okay?" I lean back and bring a hand up to carefully wipe a stray tear or two that escaped. She sniffles a little bit, and nods. I take her hand, and slowly stand up. Uhm… hmmm… I look around the room quickly, and see an orange piece of furniture not far from us, and proceed to lead the little girl to it. Oh, it's one of those bench things, but I have to say I prefer the beige one in the bedchamber to this unsightly orange.

The human youngling and I sink onto the bench, Arthur trotting behind us. I open my mouth to say something—what, I'm not sure—before another presence in my mind distracts me. Well, really it wasn't just a presence. As soon as I get comfortable on the bench, I see a giant golden ball of fur unroll and stare at me. Oh great, just what I needed; another dog. It's much bigger than Arthur is, more on par with the Gilnean mastiffs I've seen. Is this a hunter pet?

_"You smell different, but I still love you."_ A deep voice echoes in my mind. Well, that answers my question. Loki loves me, but he wouldn't just tell anyone he loves them; nor would any of my other pets, come to think of it.

The dog climbs off the bench, strolls around the wooden table in front of the bench and sits on the ground in front of me. I stretch a hand out, intending to pet his head, but he cuts me off and jumps at me, licking my face from chin to hairline. The little human lets out a giggle.

"Isaac, sit!" she says. Isaac and Arthur are interesting names, but then, these are certainly the most unique companion pets—I guess that's what they are?—that I've seen. These two dogs have to be the most perplexing beasts I've seen. Not in appearance or anything—there would have to be tentacles or something for them to even come near topping my list of "Weirdest Looking Creatures" believe you me.

I turn to the human child, and study her closer, now that neither of us is on the ground and I'm not panicking after hurting her. The child is definitely female, pale-skinned like I am and hair like fire, but covered in what I conclude are freckles, which I can see covering her shoulders and limbs. I can't say I have ever seen freckles like this girl has, but then I also can't claim to have been close to another human in a nightdress. It occurs to me I don't know what name to use for this youngling, and open my mouse to ask, before I am once again interrupted by Isaac.

_"Why do you smell different? I still love you. Do you love me? Does Sara love me? Will you pet me? I love you."_

"Yes, I love you."

_"Do you have some food?" _This question is coming from Arthur, who has taken a seat next to Isaac and is staring at me.

"No, I don't." I'm beginning to feel a dull ache at my temples. It is now that I realize the little human—Sara, I guess?—is staring at me.

"Is there something wrong?" I say out loud. I suppose staring at the dogs would strike her as odd? Normally I wouldn't, but if contact can't be constant (since they're not my pets), eye contact is my best bet. I guess she's never seen another hunter interact with her pets? Are they even hers? No, wait, that's impossible. She can't even be the Prince's age yet, let alone old enough to begin class training. Well, maybe. I'm not sure how human ages work. I myself am a young adult at 129 years of age, but humans wither and die often before they have 100 years of life. I bite my lip, and think. Was Prince Anduin this small when I first met him before the King returned?

"Cyr!" Sara's high-pitched voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Yes?" How does this little girl know my name? I make a mental note to ask later.

"Why were you staring at the dogs? Did they do something?"

"Uhh…" I trail off.

_"I love you."_

_"Do you have food?"_

_"Do you love me?"_

_"Food?"_

_"Wanna play?"_

_"Will you feed me more ham?"_

"No! No, I will **not** feed you more ham, and no, I do not want to play! Be quiet! All of you!" I burst out, and both dogs let out whines before sinking to the floor, still staring at me with sad eyes. No, Cyr, stay strong. Don't give in to the sad eyes… Elune grant me strength. I relent and stroke both dogs on the head before I feel a small hand tapping me. I turn.

"Yes?"

"Why did you yell at the dogs to be quiet? Dogs can't talk!" She giggles, and pauses. "They can't. Can they?"

Oh dear. I pause, trying to figure out what to say, and then realize my momentary silence was the wrong move. Sara's face lights up and she beams at me.

"You can talk to them, can't you? What were they saying? Can you teach me to talk to them? Do you hear them in your head? Cyr, why aren't you listening to me!?"

I can feel the dull ache in my head getting worse. I pull my knees up in front of me and hide my face on my knees, trying to tune out the little girl's incessant chattering. I realize that now more than ever do I agree with my mother's words on the 100th anniversary of my birth; I am far more suited to an adventurer's life than I am to having younglings of my own.


End file.
